


A whore's a whore's a whore

by Blackarrow_bagels1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, a longer supernatural fic is coming, no beta we die like dean, rip to everyone who followed me for batman and sanders sides content, sam's not homophobic but he's about to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackarrow_bagels1/pseuds/Blackarrow_bagels1
Summary: "The only reason Dean still had his head attached to his shoulders was that warrior confidence and instinct. He was a good judge of character.Except for when it came to dates."Sam suffers as Dean explores his attraction to men with more and more monsters
Relationships: Ash/Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester, Garth Fitzgerald IV/Dean Winchester, Lee Webb/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	A whore's a whore's a whore

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on like 9 batman fics, but also I used my winter break to binge watch all 15 seasons of supernatural and the inner superwholock in my body needs to write before she dies. So more supernatural fics are coming, as are batman fics. Sorry

Sam Winchester is not homophobic. Or biphobic, or transphobic, or any of those other words he learned at college. He’s not. Honestly. He supports all people in their journey to find love, no matter who they find that in. 

Anyone who knew him would say he’s a great ally. That’s not entirely true, since he doesn’t really identify as male, but there’s a whole other story. The thing that’s important is, he encourages his friends to find love. He’ll talk for hours with Charlie about other girls, he offered nothing less than total support when Jack changed their pronouns, and he doesn’t care when two men hold hands. He’s a good friend, and a good ally.

But for some godforsaken (Chuck forsaken?) reason, he hates all of Dean’s boyfriends. 

\---  
In hindsight, he should’ve been nicer to Ash. Ash was a roadie, sure, but he was smart. Ellen and Jo trusted him. He showered every day. If only he’d been more supportive. But hindsight was 20/20, and Sam hadn’t had time to process his older brother was bisexual before opening his mouth. Nothing could’ve prepared Sam for opening the door to Ash’s room and finding him *in flagrante* with Dean. He stood there, for a moment, holding terrible eye contact with Ash, before they both shouted. Sam slammed the door shut, ran into the Impala, and considered bleaching his eyes. A few minutes later, Dean entered through the driver’s side, wearing the same clothes as last night, albeit more wrinkled. They didn’t say anything for a while, and then spoke at once.

“Not a word,” Dean threatened, just as Sam started asking many, many words.

“You can’t be gay!” were the first four. Followed by “I thought you were homophobic-” and then interrupted with “Ash? Really? *Ash?*” There were other questions. None of the “how to be a good ally” books mentioned interrogating the person, but Sam couldn’t help himself. There were too many contradictions. There was just no way Dean could be bisexual, and sleeping with Ash.

Dean was silent for the entire drive home, and continued not speaking to Sam when they ate dinner with Bobby. And the next day he kept it up, only talking to Sam about a possible case. Sam knew he fucked up, and tried to make it better. It’s hard to get past Dean’s walls, but Sammy Winchester excelled at it. He drove to the Roadhouse, and valiantly put up with how Ash mercilessly flirted with Dean, determined to finish what Sam had interrupted. 

The more he thought about it, Sam wasn’t mad at Dean. He started to piece together a few buried memories. And then, as he sat in the Roadhouse, tolerating Ash burping the title to every AC/DC song, he realized something. Dean was too good for Ash.

This perception would not hold up for long.  
\---

Then came Castiel. Their relationship was more…. Complicated. Dean was so used to protecting Sam and he earnestly wanted to return the favor. But how the fuck do you protect your brother when he’s insistent on making out with the thousand eyed, multi winged, sword wielding, non human, thing that can break glass with its voice and possess people. There were extenuating circumstances, too. Ruby didn’t trust Castiel, for what seemed like valid reasons. While Dean didn’t trust Ruby, Sam defended his own partnership with her (the evil you know versus the evil you don’t, and all that). But when the apocalypse started, and Castiel proved him loyalty to humanity, Sam changed. 

He was happy for Dean and Castiel. They seemed happy together, exchanging long, soulful looks that pleaded for the other to stay. They had a good thing going.

Sam learned the hard way there can be too much of a good thing. For the past twelve years, he’s had to suffer through their lovey dovey wordless bullshit. Everytime one of them gets hurt, the other complains and vents to Sam. Everytime one of them does something annoying, the other complains and vents to Sam. Everytime one of them does something impressive, the other gushes to Sam. He loves Castiel, his best friend, his brother, his angel. But he would happily set the bunker on fire if it meant Cas would stop telling him about all the ways Dean brings him pleasure. 

\---

Sam soon decided knowing both Castiel and Dean, as tiresome as they could be, was better than not knowing Dean’s boyfriend. Benny Lafitte was a murderer, pirate, member of some southern monster mafia, and Dean’s newest flame. He didn’t know what purgatory was like, of course, but when Dean would say “he’s my brother in arms” and then leave it at that, Sam remembered what hell was like. Sure, his brother took after their mother, but he could be just as cagey with information as Dad. And just as blind.

Sam saw it. Every time Benny’s eyes lingered too long on Dean’s body, a quick glance at his bare neck. The scars on his brother’s neck also haven’t gone unnoticed, but neither man talks about it. Cas said something about purgatory being full of vampires, and it’s possible those scars came from some other bloodsucker. That won’t stop a chill from going down his spine every time Benny smiles at Dean, nostrils flaring with what must be the smell of human blood.

And that was another thing. Sam never heard the end of it when he was addicted to drinking blood, but Dean actively defends when Benny does it. He robs blood banks. At least Sam took it from consenting demons, or demons who deserved to be drained, but Benny? He makes Dean recant everything he knew, without a moment’s hesitation. There was something else, too. Dean and Cas hadn’t been the same after Cas cracked purgatory open, but they still loved each other. That stank ass trenchcoat festered in the Impala’s trunk for what Sam feared could be forever, until Cas inevitably returned. They still had feelings for each other, if Sam’s long, drunk text messages from both meant anything. But Dean loved Benny, and didn’t seem to care when Castiel aired his (and Sam’s) valid concerns. 

Maybe it was that disarming Southern Charm. As Lucifer’s body, he got regrettably familiar with Hell’s Princes, one of which fancied himself a colonel sanders knock off. Benny’s twang and lopsided smile reassured Dean, but it only made Sam more suspicious. His dumbass brother couldn’t see the shark in the water, but Sam could. And he’d do anything to keep Dean safe. Currently, that meant bitching about his vampire friend.

\---  
Sam is 0 for 3 in terms of being a supportive brother. He promises himself he’ll at least try to get along with the next guy Dean brings home. And he did try. For three seconds.

Because the next guy Dean brought home was Crowley, King of the Crossroads, Ruler of Hell, Professional Demon, and all around bastard. Castiel seemed equally annoyed by Crowley’s incessant flirting, but Dean brushed them off. His relationship with the demon was strange. The more the mark ate at his soul, corrupting him, the more time they spent alone together. And then there was that summer where Dean had transformed into a demon himself. Crowley loved nothing more than to share all the perverse, explicit, sexual and homicidal things they did together, in vivid detail. At least Benny kept his mouth shut around Sam.

Breathing exercises, long morning runs, and the occasional prayer for divine strength got Sam through it. There was no winning around Dean and Crowley. The two had a conniving, chaotic partnership and a language of smirks and eye sex only they understood. At least Rowena was on his side. He didn’t agree with her schemes to actually break them up (too many hex bags for his taste) but at least he had someone to share the pain with. 

\---  
At least Sam was there for the main four. He could keep an eye on Dean, make sure his apparently monster catnip brother didn’t get in too deep with the nonhumans he insisted on fucking. And he knows that Dean isn’t great at commitment. He and Castiel are apparently fine with it, as they’ve both had partners outside of each other. Sam doesn’t understand, but he’ll always be supportive. 

And it’s that kind of supportive attitude that has him choking on coffee one bright, slow Thursday when Garth mentions he, his wife, and Dean all had a three way. Valiantly, he struggles past the caffeine assaulting his windpipe and takes a staggering breath, unsure what to do with this. He didn’t think Dean had a type, but sleeping with Garth felt like a step too far. This had to be a joke, the beginnings of a prank war that would end with bloodshed. But Dean joins Garth and Sam at the diner table, favoring his right leg, winks at Garth, and then starts discussing the possible tulpa one town over as if nothing happened. Choosing the path of least resistance, Sam says nothing, but opts to spend the night in the Impala, pretending he doesn’t see Garth’s wife slap Dean’s ass. 

\---

Charlie once described Dean as a “disaster bisexual.” Sam laughed at that, memories of Dean’s epic fight against glass doors and jammed guns playing in his mind. But deeper down, he knew that wasn’t entirely accurate. As much of a disaster as Dean could be, and he could be quite the disaster, he was fierce. A fighter through and through, with a vibrant spirit that monsters of all kinds found attractive. The only reason Dean still had his head attached to his shoulders was that warrior confidence and instinct. He was a good judge of character.

Except for when it came to dates. Dawning horror creeps up Sam’s spine as Dean continues talking, something distant in his eyes. The description is too barebones to really identify whatever creature Lee was using, but it was dangerous. Enough so to leave a trail of bodies. Enough to nearly kill Dean himself. Sam nods his head sympathetically when his brother stops the story abruptly. 

“Anyways, it’s handled now,” Dean says, before finishing off his beer. Silence hangs in the air, telling Sam all he needs to know. Lee was a friend, a hunter, a good person, and he’s dead now. Dean looked him in the eyes as he killed him, a pain Sam’s all too familiar with. 

Sam might not be supportive of Dean’s boyfriends, but he can support Dean. He slides another beer across the table, and Dean gratefully opens it, gulping the contents like his sanity depends on it. Tonight, it just might. He doubts his brother’s liver can handle the amount of beer it’ll take to get Dean to sleep, so he switches tactics. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” he offers, knowing the answer before Dean even says it. And he knows exactly what to play. Porky’s Two.


End file.
